


Background Noise

by Sonzaishinai



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Injustice: Gods Among Us, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barista AU?, Batman does not exist, Blowjobs, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Bruce and clark r the main pairing, Bruce is poor, Bruce owns a rundown cafe, Bruce tries to be a good dad, But in full honesty idk if it rlly was me who wrote this, Daddy Kink, For the explicit part, Harvey is a good friend, Humiliation kink, It gets explicit later, Lois is dead, Multi, Praise Kink, Pretend it makes sense, Shits weird, Sorry im not good at writing emotion, Theres an age gap between Bruce and Clark, This is Injustice, handjobs, if u reach the scene itll make sense, if u read my note u will understand, it kinda gets nonconsensual, only tagged multi cuz of minor shit, ppl r occ asf, shit takes a weird and uncoordinated turn, the note says it all, theres a homophobic scene but kal kills him so its ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonzaishinai/pseuds/Sonzaishinai
Summary: Kal meets a breathtakingly beautiful coffee shop owner in the Gotham Slums.





	Background Noise

**Author's Note:**

> I… I do not remember writing most of this. On Saturday night, I abandoned an idea I was barely starting out and wrote random shit on a google doc and it sprung out from there. I remember writing five pages… and then I was at 33. I had no idea how this would go from start to finish. I had no plot. I just wrote shit and suddenly, I had a storyline before me. There were details I felt were important to include and later they unintentionally came full circle. I read over my first 33 pages after I woke up and… it was not my writing style. I pulled 50 new words and words I haven’t seen in years out of god knows where. This fic feels heavily like I wasn’t the one who wrote it, but I finished it and I have no other explanation, so I’m posting it.
> 
> On that note, that’s also strange. I am not this committed nor motivated to completing things, especially such a long fic, better yet one that I had no idea for how it’d go. I rushed the ending in fear that I’d lose myself to the thing that possessed me to write this, but, in the end, it feels like I still followed someone else’s instructions. Shit takes a weird turn.
> 
> When I finished it, it made sense and didn’t make sense all at the same time. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote. I just know that I clicked together ideas nicely and that in a way, the fic does make sense. In addition, this is the most expansive writing i’ve ever created, even though I kinda cut off at the end and shit goes down the drain. Some things included are also kinda prompted from previous feedback on other fics.
> 
> Personally, this piece feels like absolute shit.
> 
> And yet, something is compelling me to write a sequel.
> 
> Unbeta'd btw

“Fuck this shit.” A mounting headache from the now two hour discussion regarding the management of money and funding, Kal abruptly stood, taking to the exit while the calls of his teammates went ignored. He’s fucking telling them, the money should be funneled into fueling the education of children and hospitals, even if pouring in too much will cause a halt on prison establishments. They wouldn’t even have to create prisons for criminals if they’d just approved the decision to enable immediate culling! Less money put to waste for useless holdings, more money available for rehabilitation centers, and less space taken up via environmental damage!! Fuck this shit!!

 

Readying himself at the zeta beams, a hand brought Kal to a stop, calling his attention gently towards the Amazonian Warrior who wore a scowl.

 

“Kal, you can’t just walk out on a godforsaken meeting just because it’s giving you a headache!” Her brows furrowed. “Everyone is split by decisions and reasoning, but you’re our leader!! You have to be present for diplomatic matters, no matter how much you dislike them!”

 

“Like hell I do, Diana!” Now it was Kal’s turn to scowl. “I already gave my input but the lot of you are adamant about ignoring my opinion.”  
  
“That’s because others have their own good points to make to, Kal!!” she yelled. Had she been anyone but his best friend, Kal would have snapped her neck for standing up to him. “It simply isn’t practical!! We can divide monetary values into portions, but we can’t always spend large amounts on one single matter! Everything has its role in the system, Kal, and by Hera, I know you really care for the future generation, but we need to take things slow, Kal.”   
  
He didn’t wanna hear any of her shit. He turned back to the zeta beam panel.

 

“Kal!!” Ugh. “Don’t fucking ignore me, Kal El!” He rolled his eyes at her.

 

“You-!” and then she broke out into a smile, a small scoff escaping her lips. They never could really be mad at each other. “Fine, have it your way. Just make sure to be back soon.”

 

Kal stayed quiet for a moment before muttering a thank you. If he wanted to rid himself of his headache, he couldn’t be going out and about as Superman. He’d have to take a visit to the Fortress an change into something more suitable, even if it hurt occupying the clothes of Clark Kent. No matter. He’d deal with the grief later. For now, he wanted to find a way to relax his head, and the prospect of a cafe like the ones he and Lois used to frequent sounded appealing.

  
  


The bell dinged, indicating a visitor. This particular cafe that Kal randomly chose out was quite bright, filled with oblivious occupants who weaved around his hunched and bespectacled self. _If only they knew who they were so casually hanging around_ , Kal thought to himself.

 

At the counter, a teenage cashier hurried to take the complex order of a middle aged woman who proclaimed her inability to currently digest regular milk over soy milk due to stomach ulcers, a group of teenagers behind her impatiently tapping their feet and chattering at the hold up.

 

Around the building, people went about with their business, college students and businessmen working on assignments and the likes, friends in school gossiping and partners, dating.

 

The overwhelming joy almost sickened Kal. It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to see people happy, he just… it was too… familiar. Cafe’s like these… He and Lois used to go to places like these and the surroundings brought an urge to run, to puke with the mounting nausea in the depths of his stomach.

 

Behind him, a man asked that he move so he could make his way into the cafe and Kal sidestepped, letting him through before he bolted out of there.

 

 _Fuck_. He’d just have to find some other place to go to.

  
  


He doesn’t know why he could never bear to fly in Clark Kent’s clothes. Mayhaps he subconsciously distinguished between Superman and Clark Kent and everything he compartmentalized as the overlord of Earth went to Clark Kent. Anyways, he chose to walk instead of taking to flight around the city in search of a place to go.

 

In a way, he was… glad. Walking, he got to enjoy the beauty of his city in a way he never has been able to when overseeing everything. As amazing as the ability was, the sightseeing got tiring every now and then. If there was one downfall to it, though, it was, again, the reminder of Lois and their occasional walks through Metropolis.

 

He cursed himself silently. He could never forget the fucking nuke that clown planted here. Around him, the buildings and sights didn’t line up and everything unnerved him just that one bit.

 

He couldn’t stay here.

 

Head still clouded with emotion, Kal took to the pier, boarding a ferry to Gotham. If there was any place he’d be able to relax at this point, it’d be the sister city of Metropolis. An unfamiliar grounds with unfamiliar people and unfamiliar things.

 

It’d be just perfect.

  
  


For the second time that day, his ears chimed in to the sound of bell dinging indicating entry. The cafe he entered this time was very different from the one he found earlier. This place seemed almost rundown, the paint outside, peeling, and no obvious occupants inside the store. There was no eye straining brightness that reminded him of the days when he was still Clark Kent and Superman, one and the same. No chattering groups and busy people.

 

It was perfect.

 

Now, he just hoped that the owner and the quality was decent. Luckily for him, though, anything awkward could be avoided; he’d brought his laptop with him in his quest to find a place to relax. That way, if he was gonna stay somewhere, he wouldn’t look like a weird stalker or something, no one with him and nothing to do as he peered around a shop.

 

Inside the cafe, it was a tad bit dusty. The owner was obviously someone poor, as it didn’t seem to occupy anything much too up to date with modern cafe shops. A light at the end of the shop flickered, and the tables were old and wooden, looking just a punch or two from shattering into splinters. Below his feet, the red and white checkered tiles were fading in some areas and cracked in others, if not both. He was curious as to what caused that.

For a moment, though, Kal, embarrassingly, thought he had missed a “closed” sign. No cashier or owner popped up to greet him or take his order, and he was just getting ready to leave to find another shop when a door somewhere down the store opened and- _oh. Oh fuck. Damn._

 

“S-sorry, sir, I-I’ll be right there to- to take your order. P-please wait a bit!”

 

The flustered store owner looked exhausted, sweat dripping from his forehead as if he’d just gone about doing some hard labor. In spite of that, though, he was- oh fuck, he was a beauty.

 

The man had a pale complexion, cheeks dusted with pink from his aforementioned work. His nose seemed almost aristocratic, and his high cheekbones were accompanied by soft looking, pale, pink lips. Meanwhile, his eyebrows were furrowed with frustration, and the eyes below them were a pleasant blue, like that of the ocean on a perfect day. Atop his head, raven hair darkened to black under the poor lighting, a curly mess of silky, fine strands that went untamed. He was also clearly younger than Kal and- beautiful.

 

He was breathtaking.

 

He was simply breathtaking and Kal could feel his cheeks rising with heat, mouth agape as he stared and took in the somewhat lean and decently muscled form adorning an almost loosely hanging white shirt and a pink apron, dusty, black sweatpants underneath.

 

“S-sir?” The man stuttered out again, and Kal realized he had been staring wordlessly for a good minute, lips parted.

 

“Oh! S-sorry! Yes, I’ll just wait here. N-No need to rush.” What the fuck! Why was he stuttering! He was Superman, for fuck’s sake! He hasn’t stuttered in over a decade since he was still Clark Kent!!

 

Moreover, why was he checking out a random guy! He was loyal to his deceased wife! Ugh! Sure, he was attractive, but god, he hoped that was all. A mounting guilt built at the back of his throat as his cheeks burned more with the man’s thank you and short departure again, to the back room.

 

In that time, Kal worked to cool his face, and when the man came back from the hidden room, Kal was ready, order in mind. With the man now up close rather than afar, Kal noted that he was likely in his late 20’s and shorter than him, the mop of hair included only coming up to about his collarbone, even with Kal hunched to keep up the facade of Clark Kent. _‘Stop that!’_ Kal scolded himself while he ordered an iced coffee.

 

“W-Will that be all, S-Sir?” the shorter man stuttered out again while clearly trying to avoid Kal’s eyes. He nodded and, handing over the requested money, Kal spaced out, making his way to a creaky table with his laptop bag in hand after he gathered his change and the man left to the back.

 

With the sound of coffee grounds being grinded and the likes shoved to the back of his head, Kal opened up the device, making his way towards youtube while plugging in some earphones to entertain himself.

 

Amidst a random video he’d had running on some nature documentary, the man arrived next to him with his order, softly placing it at the end of the table whilst stuttering out a “here you go, sir”.

 

Smiling, Kal gave his thanks and returned to his video, feeling guilty at the fact that, as the man turned back, his eyes had drifted to the man’s behind, watching it sway under the sweats that didn’t do the stocky frame any justice.

 

In fact, he was so mesmerized that he was soon left staring at the wall from which it’d disappeared until he heard the telltale sign of the back door slamming again. Dammit! Stop being a creeper, Kal! Get a hold of yourself!

 

He looked to the time at the bottom of his screen. 2:17. He’d been gone from the watchtower now for 4 hours. He guessed it was time to get back.

 

Standing and gathering up his stuff, drink in hand, Kal left a hefty sum of money as a tip. A good couple hundred bucks, but only out of pity, he told himself. _That feels like an excuse,_ a voice at the back of his head said, and he did well to squish it. Diana would be proud and Ollie would roll over in his grave with joy at his money being put to good use.

 

He scoffed sadly at that last bit. What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe it was the trauma. It was definitely the trauma.

As he left, Kal listened in again to the interior of the store, hearing the back door open again about twenty minutes later when he’d walked into an alley to change into Superman and, seconds after, hearing a soft gasp and a “no way” followed by a “holy crap” when the front door also ringed open to the soft steps of a kid, probably because school just went out.

 

Wait.

 

Oh.

 

That’s a shame, Kal thought, and he almost frowned in person as he took to the skies. Almost scowled with anger and barely held back from trying to listen in for a female voice within the establishment. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?

 

Mind in turmoil, Kal sipped at his iced coffee before dropping the cup at a random trash bin whilst on his way to the Fortress from Gotham.

 

Today left a lot for him to think about, but he thinks he won’t be visiting again anytime soon.

  
  
  


“Is something the matter, Kal?” Diana’s soft, concerned voice snapped the Kryptonian out of his thinking bubble, bringing him back to the present reluctantly. For a second, he thought about not responding, feeling a tad bit shameful at the prospect of confessing his sudden rush of feelings at the random shop owner.

 

He knew, though, that if he didn’t confess now, Diana would find a way to wring it out of him later, whether he liked it or not.

 

He sighed, caving. “Remember two days ago when I walked out of that meeting?”

 

Diana hummed as if to say “yes”, similarly caught up in managing paperwork. Kal paused.

 

“Dammit, Diana, I’m such a failure for a fucking husband. It feels like I’m cheating on her,” he admitted, and that definitely caught the Amazonian’s ears. He could feel her eyes on him, in fact, gazing questioningly at him from across the table as if prompting him to continue, and he couldn’t look her in the eyes, no way, no how. It was too embarrassing a confession to behave in any way intimate.

 

“I found a coffee shop down in Gotham and-” his cheeks reddened in betrayal- “t-the owner was- um, beautiful.” The surprise and shock emanating from Diana didn’t go unnoticed. He did everything in his power to not glance in her direction.

 

“Did you get her number?”

 

Kal stilled, sputtered, and then lost his shit.

 

“What!? Aren’t you going to call me a bad person!? Diana, I fell head over heels with one look!!! I’m a horrible fucking husband, Diana, god!! Lois-!! How could I wrong Lois like this!?! And it’s a guy!! I didn’t even know I was gay until that day!!! ARGH!!”

 

Grasping at his head while words flowed from his lips, Kal felt like punching himself. Off to the side, Diana was clearly amused.

 

“My dear friend, one, you’re likely bisexual, not gay. Two, suddenly feeling lustful after someone doesn’t make you a bad husband. As much as it may feel like being unfaithful, and I will admit it’s a surprise, these emotions do not make you any less of a good person.” Kal opened his mouth to protest but was immediately cut off. “Maybe, just maybe, it was about time you moved forward. Would Lois want you mourning over her for the rest of your life, Kal?”  
  
He shut up at that because as bad as it felt, no, no she wouldn’t. If he knew anything about Lois, it was that he’d tell him to pick his ass up and move on from her in any way that he could. He had a whole, long life to live. He shouldn’t be wasting it in grief, if she had any say in his life.

 

Still, though, it felt… wrong to so abruptly step forward after living such a while with revenge in his mind. He didn’t like how unnatural it felt for his 46 year old self, especially with the values that his adoptive parents raised him with. Yet…

 

The mention of his deceased spouse always sent her best friend into deep thought. In this time, she didn’t interrupt his thought process, leaving him to do his own decision making with his forehead creasing further and further.

 

“Who am I kidding, even if I do wanna be with him, I think he already has a partner,” he muttered, eventually, a down look on his face.

 

Diana huffed. “Are you sure of that?”

 

“I mean, I guess I am. I heard some kid walk in to his cafe sometime after I left,” Kal said, looking into the distance. Diana at least had the decency not to “tut” at him.

 

“It could have just been a random kid wanting to buy a drink from his shop, Kal. Who knows?” The Kryptonian looked down at his paperwork without saying a word. “Don’t doubt me, Kal, as slim a chance as it may be, I’ve been alive for far longer than you have been. I think my mounted wisdom is enough to judge your judgements, if I say so myself.” She smiled. “And even if he is in a relationship, you’re Superman. Why not just budge right in?”  
  
At that, Kal sputtered seemingly with anger and disbelief. “What are you on, today, Diana!? Are you kidding me?! There’s no way I can do such an evil act!!”

 

Stoic, Diana shrugged. “I don’t know, Kal. You don’t even seem to have the confidence to ask for his number for being the ruler of the Earth. Did you even ask for his name? What are _you_ on?”

 

Inside Kal’s mind, three words ran repetitively.

 

_It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a trap-_

 

_Oh, fuck it._

 

“FINE!! Maybe I _will_ ask for his number!!” he exclaimed, and then his hands flew to his mouth with such speed it could have caused a sonic blast had he gone any quicker.

 

Across from him, Diana smiled sweetly and irritatingly like she hadn’t just tricked her best friend into trying to hook up with a guy he met only once. God dammit. He can’t believe he fell into such a foolish trap like that! In his seat, Kal glared at Diana, not at all amused by the turn of things. And curse her lasso, too. If need be, she’d find out whether or not he really asked for his number.

He hated life.

  
  


The bell to the door of the shop dinged again, and Bruce stood from his work with surprise evident in his eyes. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, two minutes late, he noted that school had yet to be out, so it wasn’t Damian, Jason, or Tim who’d just entered. That meant it was a customer, which was a shock. This was the second time this week that someone had visited the shop, and with such a short span between the last visit, too.

 

Putting the broom off to the side with its broken dustpan, he decided he’d forego moving the furniture to clean for just a little while as he attended to his customer. He had time, after all, and this week seemed to be lucky.

 

Rushing down the stairs and donning an apron as he made his way down the slim corridor, he nearly slipped on a step and his heart raced as he righted himself to get ready for the customer. “Coming!” he yelled out, hands fumbling while he fixed his attire.

 

When he stepped out into the small room below and peered down to the entrance, he recoiled with shock.

 

It was him! It was the guy who tipped him two hundred dollars just three days ago! He was just standing in the middle of his store, eyes shining optimistically and nervously as he waved to him from in front of the counter.

 

Immediately, with hope that maybe he could strike lucky again and maybe earn enough money for the week with his visit to pay off the bills without worry, Bruce rushed forward, nearly stumbling over his feet with nervous energy. How was he supposed to greet someone he’d already met!?

 

“H-hi, s-sir! W-What would you, um, like?” he almost whispered, stuttering stupidly like he always does while looking down at the counter to avoid the sharp eyes behind those glasses.

 

Dammit!

 

The guy didn’t seem any fazed, though, and, hands tapping at the scratched wood, he replied, “I think I’d like to try a decaf today, sweetie,” and smiled at him. At the name, Bruce flustered and went red to the ears with embarrassment, tongue tied as he gave the price and hands shaking as he took the money and gave back the change, retreating over to the back of the store as fast as he could.

 

On Kal’s end, he thought he might have made things a little awkward, but really, he still didn’t even know the guy’s name. Thus, he made his way back to the seat he occupied last time, opening up his laptop to watch random videos again in hopes of finding something entertaining whilst he waited.

 

Soon enough, the man came with his order and, as he swiftly popped it onto the table, Kal called back for him. “Hey, sweetie!” he said, a tad bit embarrassed with having to call him that. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” he inquired, smile soft and welcoming.

 

For a moment, he didn’t look like he was gonna answer, expression flabbergasted while faced with the prospect of a guy looking over half his age older than him hitting on him. When the cutie got ahold of his mouth, though, he stuttered out a soft, “B-Bruce, s-sir,” eyes still downcast and retreating, again, as quickly as possible, cheeks burning.

 

In his seat, Kal almost laughed at the behavior. It was almost like how he’d been as Clark Kent, when he was younger; flustered at every social interaction and stuttering like he had a cat at the back of his throat everytime he spoke.

 

It was adorable, if he had to say so himself, and he was almost ecstatic to hear no additional heartbeat in the building, nor a direct rejection from his raven haired beauty.

 

Wait.

 

His?

 

What was wrong with him!?

 

Now the flustered one, Kal rubbed at his cheeks with the ball of his palms. Ugh! Diana was getting to him!!

 

With one part of the list down, though, Kal waited a bit with his laptop, listening to the steady sweeping of a broom and the man’s heartbeat in the floor above of the dilapidated building. Steadying his hand, he took a napkin from the holder against the wall and retrieved a pen from his laptop bag, writing a quick note on it and then disappearing off into the skies with his stuff and drink.

 

Again, he made his way to the Fortress, dropping off the cup at a random trash bin and not waiting to listen in for the man’s reaction when he found the additional two hundred hidden under the napkin.

 

If he was to deal with rejection, then so be it.

  
  


Dick Grayson sneakily entered the rundown coffee shop, already experienced in silencing the entrance bell to hide the fact that he’d came in. As much as the 20 year old hated to rely on his adoptive father, who only had an eight year age difference between the both of them, he wasn’t all too good at surviving on the streets like Jason was.

 

When he walked in, he spotted a napkin left on one of the tables and felt irritation surge at the fact that someone had the audacity to leave their trash around for his father to pick up. Really, it was only a napkin! They couldn’t be anymore ruder!

 

As he approached it, though, he noticed the slightly upturned, optimistic curve of someone’s handwriting on the thin paper, words and numbers scribbled on it and a couple of bills sticking out from underneath.

 

Reading it, Dick’s eyes widened in shock, and he picked up the napkin and the two hundred dollars (two hundred!!) and rushed up the stairs to the room above, yelling for Bruce.

 

Almost immediately, as if in a panic, his adoptive father stuck his head out of the door down the corridor, fight seemingly forgotten as worry for his son took over his features. “Dick?! What’s wrong!?” he almost yelled, and rushed towards the 20 year old with navy eyes and a smile (?) practically stuck to his face.

 

“Look!” the boy (totally not an adult) yelled, jabbing his finger at the upheld napkin, the two bills held between his fingers. For a second, Bruce almost scolded him for making him worry, and then he read the napkin.

 

‘The name’s Clark.

Call me, please? :)

695-0173’

 

Bruce froze, mouth agape with speechlessness. Oh boy. Ohhh boy. Holy crap.

  
  


“Well?” Kal didn’t have to turn to know that Diana’s smiling eyes were boring into his skull, smirk gracing her elegant features.

 

“Well what?” She laughed.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Kal, did you get his number?” Kal didn’t respond. “Kaaaaaaaallllllll,” she drawled.

 

He tilted his head back, but still refused to look at his best friend. “No,” he muttered, “but I left him mine…”

 

Silence from shock, and then an eruption of hysterical laughter. “Is this a dream?! Kal El, ruler of the Earth, chose to leave his crush his number instead of getting his?!” In his seat, Kal blushed, embarrassed at how evidently ridiculous his course of action had been. Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with rejection directl-

 

On the table, his phone started ringing, quieting both occupants of the meeting room. Panicking internally, Kal turned to Diana for help, who now only stared at him determinedly as if trying to telepathically communicate, “Answer the fucking phone, Kal.”

 

So he did. He picked up the phone, seeing an unknown number trying to reach him, and spoke into it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“H-Hi? I-Is this C-Clark?” the familiar voice stuttered on the other end, Diana becoming giddy and excited in her seat as she lost her shit silently. Kal was gonna deck her if she kept this up, honest to god.

 

“Y-yeah, that’s me! Hi, Bruce!” he replied, smile clear in his voice. “Um- apologies, I didn’t think you’d actually call me.” Laughing nervously, he silently hoped that the man wouldn’t think him pathetic.

 

On the other end, Bruce was blushing to the tips of his ears, the four of his sons and his daughter watching him intently as they urged him to say the right words. “Y-yeah, I was- was kinda, um, n-nervous? About c-calling? T-Thank you, for not, um, p-pranking me,” he responded, and a soft smile graced his face.

 

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” he heard Clark reply, almost sounding a little put out. “But, yeah, I’m sorry for being so… indirect, but, if you’re willing to go on a date with me, Bruce, I’d be joyful.” Across from him, Bruce’s kids’ eyes widened, mouths dropping with shock. This dude had _balls_ for only having met Bruce twice and suddenly asking for a date.

 

Bruce turned redder than he ever thought possible. “Y-Yes!! I mean- I- I’d like that! Um, s-sorry for st-stuttering so much!” God he was pathetic.

 

On the other end, Clark laughed softly. “It’s fine, Bruce. I used to stutter a lot, as well. It takes time. And besides,” he uttered, voice dropping an octave, “I think it’s cute coming from you.”

 

Bruce sputtered, rendered speechless and red to his chest now that his blush had nowhere else to go. In his seat, Dick was going hysteric, biting his lip with the urge to scream while Jason was punching at the air in excitement. Below them, on the ground, Tim was punching at the carpeted floor and Damian and Cassandra gaped. Jesus christ.

 

On the Watchtower, Diana, having heard the exchange, was, fairly, losing her own shit.

 

This was too much.

 

As the silence reigned on the other end of the line, she was freely pounding at their desk, a grin glued to her face. Holy shit. She forgot just how bold Kal could be sometimes. Dear Hera, she needed to go out and punch something. She couldn’t handle this energy, and Kal was sitting across from her with absolutely no shame, now.

 

“I- W- Uh-”

 

“What do you say I meet you at your shop tomorrow at five, Bruce?” Kal continued on, asking like he hadn’t just called the man’s stuttering, cute and fingers, tapping at the desk rhythmically.

 

“Uh- I- S-Sure-”

 

“Great,” Kal smiled, “I’ll see you, soon,” and promptly hung up.

 

With her hands at her mouth, Diana grinned like a madman. “I have taught you well, child. My job here is done. This is it. This is the end of the line for me. Now, I die.”  


Kal scoffed at her. God, how did he let her goad him into doing shit this extreme, he’ll never know.

  
  


“TOMORROW! BRUCE, WE HAVE TO GET YOU READY!”  


“Now hold on just a minute-”  


“NO!!” The five voices yelling that singular word in unison shut Bruce up. He was never gonna get a say in this argument. Ever.

 

“BRUCE WE HAVE TO FIND YOU SOMETHING TO WEAR!” Dick practically screeched, a maddening smile adorning his face.   
  
“A SUIT! WE NEED TO FIND YOU A SUIT!” Tim followed, finger pointing into the air as if he just had a genius idea. Damian shot that down instantly.

 

“NO!! WHAT IF FATHER’S SUITOR ONLY PLANS TO TAKE HIM SOMEWHERE CASUAL!! A SUIT WOULD BE OVERKILL, DRAKE, NOT TO MENTION, WE DON’T HAVE TO MONEY!!” The young Wayne scowled in frustration. Still, they were going to fucking find something for Father even if it killed them.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THE MAN LEFT BRUCE FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS IN LESS THAN A WEEK!!! WHO KNOWS WHERE HE’LL BRING BRUCE!!” Dick yelled back.

 

“FOUR HUNDRED IN TIPS?!” Jason shrieked. “THIS IS A FUCKING SUGAR DADDY TYPE, HE’S GONNA WANNA FUCK ON THE FIRST DATE!!” Before Bruce could reprimand him for his language and words, he bit back. “BRUCE, WE NEED TO FIND YOU SOME LINGERIE AND CASUAL CLOTHING, WRING THIS FUCK OF HIS MONEY!!”

  
“TODD, HAVE YOU NO SHAME!?”

 

“JASON!! BUT WHAT IF THIS IS TRUE LOVE?!”  


“OH MY GOD-”

 

Their yelling was going to honestly kill him before he could even get a word into this argument, fight with Dick be damned.

 

From her spot, having yet to contribute, Cassandra signed at Bruce. “Call Harvey. Ask for advice.”

 

He stared dumbfounded. What a great idea.

  
  


“YOU HAVE A DATE?!” Oh god, he knew the man was gonna respond like this. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL EARLIER, BRUCE, DEAR GOD!!”

  
“Harv-”

 

“NO!! YOU STAY RIGHT THERE- Rachel, dear, I’ll be late for dinner it seems- BOYS, MAKE SURE YOUR FATHER DOESN’T GO ANYWHERE!! WE’RE GOING MIDNIGHT SHOPPING!!”

 

“Harvey!!”  
  
“We heard you loud and clear, Uncle Harv!!” the boys shouted on his end. This is it. This is where he dies. Pervert or serial killer or kidnapper be damned, he was apparently going on this date whether he liked it or not and his friends and family were going to make sure he would.

  
  


And that was the story of how, at 12AM, Bruce was walking out of a mall with his fucking towering best friend aka the literal district attorney of Gotham with three shopping bags adorning his arms as he walked as fast as he could to match the madman’s stride. Three steps for every one he took, though, granted, they were trying to escape the rapidly growing crowd of noticing admirers.

 

‘Thank god, the boys had some sense to send me off with a hat,’ Bruce thought.

 

Once they got to the car to make their way back to the cafe, Bruce knocked out, the big bags piled atop his lap and whatnot whilst the dim lights in their evening drive flew across his face in the darkness.

 

Harvey had always adored his best friend. Having met when they were children and being there in his rough times, he always wanted the best for Bruce. Hell, Bruce deserved happiness, but in his endeavors to become an attorney, he’d nearly dropped him. Now was his chance to make up for things, and if he was any bit the same as he was back when they were younger, Bruce would be awkward and incapable of initiating social interactions himself, better yet a date. The man even refused money gifts from him! He was too innocent a soul!

 

 _If this fucker that asked Bruce out fucked his best friend over, he was going to hunt him down_ , Harvey thought, brows furrowing in a split second and an intense frown gracing his face.

 

By the time they reached Bruce’s home, Harvey’s face had cleared up, and Bruce was shaken awake to a softly smiling Harvey who let him off with his kids in the dead of night.

 

They were totally gonna drop in and watch Bruce’s date tomorrow.

  
  


“BRUCE!! YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND LET ME FIX YOUR FUCKING HAIR!!” Honestly, as much as he loved his second adopted son, he was going to be the death of him. Damn him, in fact, for being the most organized of them.

 

“JASON, NO!!” Bruce screeched, running from the comb and gel that his son wielded. God be damned if he had to endure that shitty comb, pulling painfully at his scalp. He didn’t like it as a child and he sure as hell didn’t like it now.

 

“GET HIM!!” was all the warning he got before he was tackled softly by four bodies and sent tumbling to the floor, held down by eight hands as Jason brushed his hair and gelled it back relentlessly.

 

By the end of it, his eyes were watery and his mouth was shaped into a pout. He’d been betrayed by his own children.

 

Damn him.

 

Below, the sounding of a bell dinged, and Bruce cursed when he saw the clock read 4:45. Clark had arrived early, it seems.

 

Around him, his kids sighed with the effort of having to dress up their father. Seriously, it couldn’t get anymore difficult! At least they’d finished just in time.

 

Ecstatic, they sent their poor dad on his merry way, downstairs.

  
  


“Hello, Bruce.” Clark beamed from the entrance to the shop and Bruce flustered again, remembering his words from last night. Fuck, he might as well just be stuck with a permanent blush, huh.

 

“H-Hi, Clark!” Bruce replied, smiling shyly. “I-I didn’t- um- know… where you’d be- be taking me so- I- I hope I look d-decent.” Unable to keep looking him in the eyes, Bruce’s vision flickered quickly between his feet and Clark’s face.

 

Last night, when they went shopping, Harvey had bought a ton of items that he thought would look good on Bruce. Today, he wore a black turtleneck and gray slacks, white tennis shoes covering his feet and a soft, black coat to top things off.

 

Kal thought he looked absolutely beautiful, so when he didn’t say a word, Bruce was left to look up himself and face the gawking, awestruck, speechless bespectacled man who was similarly handsome in his metropolis letterman jacket donned with jeans and a white shirt underneath. His curly hair, unlike before, was also left alone, and Bruce could swear that if he ran his fingers through it, the sides graying far too quick for his age, it’d feel as soft as the fluffy blanket that Harvey once got him for his birthday when his stubborn arse refused to accept the cash he’d sent in their teen years.

 

Clearly still awaiting a response, though, Kal spoke. “Y-You look beautiful if I say so myself, Bruce. Can I have this date?” he asked in a mimic of ‘can I have this dance?’

 

Flustered, still, Bruce nodded and stepped forward, hooking his arm around Clark’s as they stepped to the door and made their way out.

 

Only Kal noticed the pitter patter of feet rushing downstairs as they departed, five pairs of shoes stepping into a car that slowly but steadily followed them around as they walked towards the Gotham City Park and, correspondingly, a nearby restaurant about an hour’s walk away. Sure, it was far, but Kal figured it’d be enough time for them to talk and get to know each other better.

 

In all honesty, though, with guilt still lightly swirling in his belly, he didn’t know how to feel about this date.

  
  


“Are you _sure_ Bruce doesn’t have a daddy kink?”

 

“For the last time, Dick, I’m _not_ sure. The last I ever heard of Bruce dating someone was Tahlia Al Ghul-” he pointed at Damian- “so who knows where the hell he’s gone from there.”

 

“Christ, Harv, we don’t need a reminder that our dad was a teen father,” Jason laughed, and Tim smacked him upside his head. Before the two could square up in the back of Harvey’s BMW, though, Cassandra pointed out between the front seats, at Clark, taking Bruce into a neat little restaurant near the corner of a curb across from the park.

 

Tilting his head back, Harvey asked again, “Are we actually doing this?”

 

“Yeah, we’re definitely doing this,” Dick uttered. “We’re gonna have to pay back Rachel for stealing you away like this, huh.” Harvey scoffed.

 

“She’ll understand the importance of this matter, don’t worry.”

 

They waited a tad bit more, none of them able to brave the possibility of getting caught in spite of how far they’ve already come, and, soon enough, the two came out of the restaurant. On the left, Clark was balancing three take out boxes and, on the right, Bruce was left to hold the ice creams that they bought, seemingly thankful for the cold that’d prevent their treats from melting for now.

 

When they crossed the street and delved into the scenery of the park, the group lost them.

 

“Huh,” Damian huffed. “That was… uneventful.”

  
  
  


The lamplights illuminated Bruce’s face under the darkening night of Gotham’s sky. On the park bench where they sat, the air chilled, and both men were thankful for their jackets and coats even though Kal didn’t necessarily need one and Bruce was still feeling a bit cold.

 

So there they sat, telling each other of stories from their childhood while eating away at their ice cream at 7 in the evening.

 

“It’s been decades since the performance, but, god, I don’t know why that speech was ever deemed serious,” Kal delightfully laughed, recounting the days of his speech and debate class. “I mean, seriously! I guess it sound serious on script, but you try reading aloud, ‘Alright, but why is there a dead clown on my floor!?’ with a serious expression!”

 

Beside him, head leaning against Clark’s shoulder as he laughed hysterically, tears leaking from his eyes, Bruce was having a joy. He hadn’t had this good a laugh in a long while and it shook his ribs with delight, leaving him almost breathless. There was no way Kal couldn’t be proud of himself.

 

“Dear god,” Bruce cackled, “I didn’t know speech and debate could ever be such a fun subject.”

 

Kal concurred. “Me neither, but as it turns out, I loved it,” and he smiled brightly, also trying to regain his composure from such a long, hard laugh. As funny as it was, he still had dozens of stories that he could get on with telling, but looking towards the sky for a moment whilst he rested his lungs, he realized that it was already quite late into the night.

 

“Bruce?”  


“Y-Yes?”

 

Kal sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you want to head back home, now? It’s quite cold, and it’s already about seven. It’ll be an hour’s walk back, sweetie.”

 

Still flushing at the name, Bruce nodded, calmed from the night’s tales. “Sure.” As much as he hated to admit it, though, he didn’t want this date to end. It felt sort of strange, going out with a man who was apparently eighteen years older than him, literally a teenager when he was just born, but it was… fun… if he had to say so himself.

 

Yeah. It was fun.

 

The two stood, heading back to the cafe guided by the moonlight and street lamps of Gotham city in a soft silence, filled only by the music Clark had playing on his phone.

 

When they reached the store an hour later, light illuminating the windows on the second floor, they paused for a moment, Kal reluctant to let go of Bruce’s hand and Bruce reluctant to let go of Clark’s. Under the rays of moonlight, the two shared a longing kiss, amused by the taste of mocha under each others’ tongues and relishing in the softness of the others lips.

 

 _Gods, please don’t take this away from me,_ Bruce thought sorrowfully, when he had to let go and retreat back into his room to avoid the prying eyes and questions of his children.

  
  


“How’d it go?” Diana asked, twirling a pencil in her hand while Hal Jordan’s ears, off to the left of her, perked in curiosity.

 

“It was okay.” Was she really going to ask him this in front of the league?

 

“Just okay?” She raised her brow at him. “Did he agree to go on a second date later on or not?”

 

Kal cursed when he felt the eyes of his league members turn to him.

 

“Woah woah woah, hold on a minute,” Barry interrupted. “Supes? Went on a date? With a guy? When did this happen?”  
  
“Two nights ago,” Kal responded, sipping the coffee he’d gotten at Bruce’s shop when he stopped by earlier that morning. Whatever. He figured it’d be inevitable at this rate, might as well take part in the information dump.

 

Now it was Hal’s turn to raise a brow at him. “Is this going to be a serious relationship or are you just dating for fun?” Had he not thought of it before, Kal would have been caught off guard.

 

“I’m hoping to make a serious commitment to it. Someone and I came to an agreement that… that Lois wouldn’t want for me to continue my life moping and mourning for her. We thought it would be a good time for me to try and… move on.” His eyes became downcast, and he felt judgement emanating from his team.

 

“That’s great!” Arthur softly exclaimed. In rapid agreement, the rest of the team nodded with him. They were genuine about it, too. He realized himself foolish for thinking any of his friends would be close minded about this matter and relaxed somewhat. He was thankful, and sighed, smiling contently.

  
  


Meeting adjourned, the league members took to their usual post-meet duties, except, this time, Barry approached Kal soon after. “Kal, can we talk in private?” he asked, and the Kryptonian had agreed.

 

With the meeting room cleared of even Diana, he gestured for the speedster to start.

 

“I don’t want to sound intrusive, but I couldn’t help but think,” the man’s eyes hardened for a moment. “Are you entering your relationship as Superman… or Clark Kent?”

 

That rewarded Kal with a bout of surprise and skepticism. He thinks he knows what this conversation will be about. “Clark Kent, of course… Why do you ask?”  


Barry sighed. “Kal… if you’re really gonna be serious about this, when are you going to unveil your identity?” He paused. “Do you even know what he thinks of… Lord Kal El? Or are you going to wait for him to realize that you aren’t aging like a normal human to be hit with the epiphany that you simply… aren’t?” The speedster was taking his time with his words. He’d been putting forth some serious thought about this, clearly, rather than running his mouth with the idea.

 

Really, though, the questioning had Kal pausing in his tracks. The Flash made some good points, and he’d have to address them later.

 

“I don’t know, Barry. I think I’ll wait to tell him.” Barry nodded almost solemnly.

 

“Sure. I can see where you’re coming from,” he sympathized, himself having once been in a relationship where he had to think over spilling his secret identity to his lover.

 

With that, the man left, and Kal picked up his phone. He had a second date to schedule.

  
  


“Where do you want to go this time?” Clark asked Bruce, and the latter walked on with the taller man thoughtfully.

 

“Anywhere simple would be nice,” Bruce smiled. He had a place in mind, but he wasn’t sure how Clark would take it. He didn’t think the man would be particularly pleased to go to a pizza place for their second date.

 

Clark chuckled at him. “I feel like you have an idea festering. I really do implore that you tell me it.” Bruce scoffed.

 

“I was thinking of this pizza place about thirty minutes away from the shop. Whenever we think we have the spare money for it, my kids and I go there and buy pizza. We rather like it,” he muttered, looking away so he wouldn’t have to see Clark’s reaction to the suggestion. “We’re actually headed in its direction right now.”

 

“Whatever you like, sweetie,” Kal smiled sweetly. He was glad that Bruce wasn’t stuttering around him anymore, though a little put out because it really was cute. Still, though, he thinks he could do with his almost soft whispering, which was just as adorable. “Take the lead!”

 

Seemingly surprised at his acceptance of the suggestion, Bruce began tugging at the man’s hand to lead them on their merry way.

 

Two minutes in, Bruce couldn’t stand the silence and stated, simply, “You know a lot of big words.”

 

For a second, Clark almost seemed dumbfounded before he gathered himself and blushed, the pink dusting his cheeks darkening the evident wrinkles on his delighted visage. “Oh-! That- Yeah, I- I used to be a journalist, actually,” he said pridefully, looking longingly off into the distance. Bruce felt like there was a story behind that, but he decided not to press Clark about it.

 

“Really?” he asked, intrigued. “I’d entered college when I was younger, but I had to drop out soon after. An… incident… happened. I- I couldn’t continue to attend, and it wasn’t like I ever had much money anyways, so… so I dropped out.”

 

He was embarrassed. He hadn’t wanted to admit that, but it just came tumbling out of his mouth. What if Clark thought he was inferior for it? Thought he was uneducated, unappealing for his lack of education? Why had he just proclaimed that to a man he’d only gone on two dates with, by now?!  


It was like Clark could smell the worry coming off of his now boyfriend. As soon as the insecurities surfaced, he shot back, “That’s a bummer. I really hope the matter soothed itself out for you.” Almost shy, Bruce glanced back momentarily to see his partner’s soft eyes filled with pity for him. He… He wasn’t expecting th-

 

“Hey, faggots!” Bruce flinched and Clark’s eyes shot distastefully beside them, glaring at a biker that’d pulled up to the red light next to them as they waited for the crosswalk to switch. Beside him, Bruce was already growing steadily uncomfortable, and pink dusted his face with rage and shame. Around them, surrounding bystanders also looked towards the biker with dislike. Fucking homophobes pissed Kal off.

 

“What, couldn’t get laid, you two?! Fucking perverted old man, seeking a little boy to play with?! Yeah, I bet that’s what you want!!” The biker cackled. “Couldn’t get your hands on a lady like a proper man and went after each other, huh?! Disgusting bunch that you are!!”

 

Sneering, Clark lighted his heat vision behind his lenses-

 

There was only one way to deal with these pathetic, sub-human losers.

 

The biker’s gas tank ignited and, in a startling pop, he was set alight in the middle of the street. Screams ensued from both victim and bystanders and-

 

“Bruce!!” Kal yelled for his boyfriend as he rushed forward onto the road, hand outstretched to catch him and pull him back from the deadly flames. Instead, though, the man thrashed in his grip, so very unlike the soft, gentle sweetheart he’d been for the past few days.

 

“Let me go, Clark! I need to help him!” he whined desperately, and Kal could only tighten his hold in confusion and pity. Such an empath. Lois would have thought it karma that the man erupted into flames, but Kal also steadily realized that, regardless, she would have also called 911 for the man.

 

“It’s no use, Bruce! Let him burn! It’s his own fault, but if you’re going to help, your effort will only be futile!!” Bruce turned back to Kal, eyes brimming with tears and brows furrowed upwards while his lips were bitten with the urge not to let out a cry. “We can call 911 but that’s the best chance you’ve got at helping, Bruce!”

 

For a moment, Bruce looked back at the man set alight, and Kal thought he wouldn’t listen to him. When he peered around, though, seeing that a couple of bystanders had already been on the phone with police, he relaxed a bit. What was he doing, being so irrationally emotional here of all places? Clark was right. He should leave this up to someone who was a professional.

 

A dark part of his mind added that he should also let the man burn for his close-minded views. He ignored that part with whatever strength he could muster and backed up against Clark’s chest with sorrow mounting in his heart. Near them, he could also see few bystanders who only watched stoically.

 

Clark was right.

 

He let the older man tug him away from the horrible scene, ears still ringing with the scream of the man.

  
  


“What do you think of Superman?” The question was abrupt and popped out from nowhere. Bruce was somewhat astounded by the direct line of questioning and looked at Clark for a moment, thinking over his answer for his boyfriend.

 

What did he think of Superman? He thought a lot of things, and some things were not all too pleasant.

  
For a second more, Bruce chewed thoughtfully. “What do I think? I… I think he’s a man with good intention… but he’s taking things the wrong way.”

 

Bruce, for a foolish second, thought he saw Clark’s face twist with rage. “How so?”

 

More thoughtful chewing in silence. “Maybe it’s just me, but… I’m not a fan of violence. Of the killing. If I were him, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. And the sacrifices he’s had to make to ensure the safety of humanity. Has he sacrificed his sanity or was his lover the first he gave up?”  


Let it be known that Kal did not like people who opposed him in either mind or body. It was only a decent amount of pity and want that kept him from chopping off Bruce’s head right now.

 

“Bruce, sometimes, violence is the only answer. If you lost someone you loved to that evil clown, you’d want vengeance, too. Surely you can understand that.”

 

Bruce’s expression became sour. “I do! God, I do, and everyday I pity the others who had to lose someone as well, but… But I was. I was one of the people who lost someone.” Kal recoiled in shock. “I lost both of my parents to the nuclear explosion that happened in Metropolis, but-” Bruce’s eyes teared up- “Clark, is something wrong with me?” he whispered. “I loved my parents, but they’re gone to the clown and-! I don’t want vengeance… I just want closure, Clark. Is that wrong?”

 

The last part was uttered in a heartbreaking whisper, and Kal was taking a napkin to the corners of Bruce’s eyes before his tears would cause a scene in the pizzeria. “Hey! Shhhh- nothing’s wrong with you, sweetie,” he softly countered. “I’m sorry for pressing you on the matter. I didn’t know, Bruce. I’m sorry.”

 

Bruce sniffled. “It’s fine… I just don’t like thinking about it a lot, but-” he hiccuped lightly- “it still hurts.”

 

Moving over to Bruce’s side of the old seats, Clark hugged the man. Bruce didn’t seem to have the strength to return it, but no matter. He clearly needed it more than Kal.

  
  


When Kal dropped Bruce off at his cafe again, he felt a pair of eyes staring at him hatefully. It wasn’t until he turned into an alley with the slight pitter patter of small feet following him that he turned and called out for the boy.

 

“...”

 

Atop the stairwell, Damian Wayne glared at Kal with only hate being funneled into the gaze. Sheesh. “What do you want, little one?” Kal asked, trying to sound nice. He had to admit, though, he was a tad bit concerned. Had it not been for his superpowers, he wouldn’t have noticed the boy, and the kid had walked onto the old, rickety stairwell without make a sound.

 

He was clearly dangerous.

 

“The others haven’t noticed, yet, but I have.” The eleven year old’s nose scrunched up with disgust. “You can’t fool me, alien.”

 

Great. First a homophobe and now a xenophobe. What’s gonna be next for today? A racist?

 

“I’m impressed at your skills of observation, young one.” Kal narrowed his eyes.

 

The boy scowled. “Flattery will get you nowhere. What do you want from my father?”

 

“Nothing, really. I just want a relationship with him,” Kal calmly stated. It was the truth, after all.

 

A -tt- sound came from the boy. “I’ll only let you be for now because you haven’t hurt him, yet. I don’t know what leverage you can possibly have, so if you hurt father, I swear on the gods, your alien nature isn’t going to protect you, freak. I will tell father of what you really are.”

 

And with that, Damian disappeared into the night, leaving Kal to think things over by himself.

 

Hm. Threaten him with his secret? Not if he had to say so himself. The solution to this was simple.

  
  


“His kid was bold enough to try and stand you down!?” Cyborg asked, flabbergasted. Kal nodded.

 

“Yes, but he was only bluffing with his threat of harm. His heart was racing the entire time we confronted one another,” Kal stated with irritation lacing his tone. That comment received a few huffs of amusement from around the table. Today was the weekly Tuesday meeting to review matters and discuss issues, and the date was on a Friday, so it’s been a good four days.

 

“Have you slept with him, yet?” Diana asked out of the blue, and Kal’s stoic expression broke. He sputtered with embarrassment at her directness.

 

“NO!” He yelled, glaring at her. She was up to something.

 

Hal made a face like he had an epiphany, meanwhile. “You _are_ one of those traditional folks, right? What is it gonna be? Sex on the third date? Because so far you’ve had two.”

 

Kal snapped at the two. “Why is my sex life of your concerns?!”

 

Arthur laughed. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re so taut with tension sometimes, you honestly need to get laid.”

 

Kal flustered. “I do not! And I’m not with him just for sex!”

 

Hal hummed thoughtfully. “Or so you say….”

 

Kal was going to lose his goddamn mind before this shit blew over.

  
  


And yet, they were not wrong.

 

For their third date, Clark brought Bruce out onto the pier to watch the sunset and, with the warm hues lighting the ocean ablaze and setting the romantic mood of their date, they kissed, longing and harsh, unlike the first time.

 

That’s what begun the story of their stumbling into an apartment Kal owned as Clark in Gotham- one of his safehouses.

 

In the cover of darkness, Kal pushed Bruce into the bedroom, hands groping every which way in an attempt to get as much of Bruce as he could. With a hand clenching at the younger’s ass, Kal smothered Bruce’s groans with more wild kissing. Kal knew off the bat that his partner was significantly inexperienced compared to him. To be fair, though, Kal only had experience with women. They were both fumbling for holds, but the Kryptonian had to take pride in himself. He’d researched gay sex a bit before they’d met up for this date, hoping he could, later on, strike lucky.

 

And he did.

 

Below him, Bruce breathed out a desperate curse followed by an indecently whined “Clark”.  With it, Kal’s blood rushed down south, and a groan escaped his own lips.

 

He pulled back from the kissing and fisted Bruce’s shirt, ripping it with ease before he toppled the shorter man onto the bed behind him. In an instant, Bruce’s jeans were gone, too, Kal towering over him with his clothes still on.

 

Adrenaline and excitement rushed through his being, then. Ever since Lois, Kal had remained faithful, refusing to have sex with anyone for fear of surmounting guilt that told him he’d cheated on his deceased spouse. And yet, now, he hummed with lust as he peered down at the lean, slightly muscled figure below him, the face and chest alight with an adorable blush.

 

Desperate but not yet reduced to animalistic means, Kal grabbed at the man’s hips, dragging him between his legs as he brought the younger’s back against his chest and dipped his hand between the soft thighs. Firmly, he grasped the hardening cock, stroking it softly as Bruce whimpered.

 

With patience everlasting, Kal continued to stroke Bruce at a steady pace, progressing into a quicker, more pressing strokes as his moans grew.

 

In the darkness, with Bruce’s head tilted back into the crook of Kal’s neck, the younger came with a cry that surprised both men.

 

“Daddy!”

 

They stilled for a minute, the awkward and sudden outburst fresh in their heads, and mouths silent.

 

God, Bruce had fucked things up all over again. What the fuck! He didn’t even have a daddy kink! Sure, Clark was eighteen years older than him, but still! Why did he yell that!?

 

In the continuous silence, Bruce’s mind kept racing, so much so that he only noticed the thumb brushing over his hardened prick when he let out a small moan. Soon enough, eyes rolling into the back of his head, Bruce was whimpering and thrashing on Clark’s lap, the man’s large erection brushing against his bottom torturously from underneath its owner’s jeans.

 

“D-Daddy! PL-PLEASE!! That’s too much!! FUCK!” Bruce cried, helpless to his daddy’s ministrations. The warm hand on his dick was relentless, though, with a strange mix between a sigh of relief and a wail of disappointment, Bruce relaxed with its retreat.

 

“Something wrong, baby?” Clark uttered against Bruce’s neck, nose trailing against the sensitive flesh there. Bruce shuddered. Oh god, Clark was going to play along with it.

 

“I-I’m sorry, D-Daddy. I-I couldn’t take it,” Bruce sniffled softly, and Clark wiped at the corner of his eyes to play along. The soft shushing calmed Bruce infinitely, though, and when he was turned softly, he peered into the inhumanely bright eyes with wonder and delight.

 

“That’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to. In the meantime,” he muttered thoughtfully, “you could always suck my cock.”

 

Bruce blushed scarlet, visible even under the mask of darkness penetrated only by the light being shone in by the moon.

 

“Daddy?”

 

Kal peered down as he felt for the zipper hidden under a flap of jean. His erection was already fully hard, near poking at the metal for release.

 

Slowly but surely, he lowered the zipper and, below it, the underwear, releasing his thick cock formerly hidden underneath the cloth. With desperation, it almost seemed to spring up in Bruce’s clouded vision, but he knew one thing for sure.

 

It was big.

 

It was really big.

 

It was big and thick around the middle and fat in the head, incredibly hard.

 

Oh god.

 

Moving forward, Bruce hesitantly took the cockhead into his mouth, lips stretching slightly to fit it through.

 

At about a third of the way down, Bruce’s mouth was stretched uncomfortably, skin around his jaw taut, but he was determined. He continued further, nearly choking when, at halfway down, his throat spasmed, the head touching the back of his throat.

 

Oh fuck.

 

Slipping back, sucking up what precum he could capture, Bruce licked at his lips, whimpering. “Daddy, it’s so big…!” It really was. There was no way he could fit the entire thing down his throat, and he was already growing hard again and barely even taking half.

 

Clark reassured him. “You can take it, sweetie. If not, I can always help. I’d like to feel your warm, soft mouth against all sides of my dick, sweetheart. I love a good, slutty mouth on my cock.”

 

Woah. Kal did not know where that came from, but Bruce’s cheeks were reddening with embarrassment and his erection wasn’t weaning, so he figured it was fine.

 

“Go on, baby, try again, will you?”

 

Bruce swallowed nervously. Moving forward again, he took what he could into his mouth and then pushed down steadily, bobbing his head as he reached his first limit in an attempt to deepthroat his daddy.

 

God, Kal swore he was seconds away from cumming. Looking down, the soft lips of the smaller man stretched wide around his cock. His eyes were tearing up with the strain, and yet he still tried so hard to please his daddy.

 

When the raven haired beauty could no longer take his cock by himself, he gripped the sides of his head and peered into his babe’s eyes, seeking permission. In them, he saw the absolute trust that Bruce placed in him, and he smiled.

 

Building his way up slowly, Clark began pulling and pushing Bruce’s head on and off his dick, watching steadily as he began taking more and more but not pausing. When Bruce could eventually get down a good three quarters without choking to death on his cock, eyes rolled into the back of his head and temple sweaty with the effort, Clark pulled him off completely, whispering to Bruce that he had to breathe if he was gonna wanna be able to take all of him down for this next go.

 

“Punch me if you want me to stop. I promise, it won’t hurt me,” Kal smiled, and then he was pulling Bruce’s head down roughly onto his dick at a rougher pace than earlier, watching his babe’s saliva drip and coat his cock liberally while he fought to take more and more under Kal’s hands. When his lips finally reached the base of his cock, Kal kept him there, hand stilling his jerking and gagging while his eyes spazzed out, throat full of Kal’s delicious cock and oh so warm-

 

Before he could signal any warning, Kal’s cock was gushing, filling Bruce’s throat with his bitter cum and painting it white. With the hand still blocking his retreat, Bruce had to swallow the rush, esophagus working to gulp down everything diligently. The copious amounts eventually blew over, though, and cum gushed past his tightly stretched lips, dribbling down his chin before Clark pulled back and even more spilled.

 

Gasping for breath, though, Bruce eventually swallowed whatever else he could, desperate for the bittersweet taste of his daddy’s cum.

 

Kal loved it. Loved the sight and scent of Bruce gagging on his dick and swallowing his cum. Fuck. For once, he also felt blessed for the Kryptonian genetics. Gathering Bruce up by the armpits, he sat Bruce facing himself on his lap, shoving two fingers down his throat across his face to gather as much of his cum as he could. Head clouded with lust, he brought the fingers down to Bruce’s ass, stuffing them in.

 

Bruce screamed.

 

“FUCK!! CLARK!!”

 

Immediately, Kal pulled out the fingers, panicked. “Are you okay?! I’m sorry- Does it-”  


Gasping, Bruce replied, “N- I’m fine- Sorry- I-I was just surprised. You can continue.”

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kal still tensed momentarily. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you beyond the realms of what you like, Bruce.” Nodding, Bruce reassured him, and Kal went back to entering Bruce with his fingers, though only with one this time.

 

Then, steadily, that one finger grew to two that scissored him, Bruce groaning softly in the crook of Kal’s neck, back arched. Bruce was beautiful, his lithe form fitting perfectly against Kal’s muscled one, and the moans he let out, a sweet, delicious harmony to his ears.

 

Without warning, though, Bruce jackknifed against Clark, twitching madly with a loud moan ripped from his throat. Adding another finger, Kal listened as Bruce went mad with the pleasure tearing through him, peering up to watch the reddening expression of bliss when he lifted his head from Kal’s shoulder. That beautiful mouth that had sucked him earlier morphed into a perfect “o”, and his eyes strained to stay open as his prostate was assaulted. Kal couldn’t help himself. He jerked up to kiss the soft lips, worming his way into the mouth and roughly taking the lead while Bruce continued to moan.

 

When he removed his fingers, Bruce whined high and needy, face dusted pink with the strain of the pleasure and eyes unfocused. Kal laid back, leaned against a pillow on the headboard and pulled Bruce forward a tad bit so the human would straddle him.

 

“C’mon baby, you know what to do for daddy, don’t you?” Kal grunted, voice an octave deeper, the tremors causing Bruce to shudder with pleasure as he lifted off and gently guided the fat head of his daddy’s cock into his aching hole. Yes, he did. He knew what to do and how to please his daddy.

 

With the tip of his daddy’s fat cock pressing at his entrance, Bruce bit his lip, and then sat and- oh- fuck-

 

The cockhead penetrated him, its girth stretching Bruce and travelling deeper into him without pause. His legs shaking with the strain, Bruce let loose a loud, lewd moan, and shivered when his bottom met with his daddy’s solid hips. Below him, he heard Clark’s sweet praises, calling out to him and making him harder. Oh god, please don’t tell him he had a praise kink.

 

“Look at you, Brucie, darling. Such a good fucking slut, oh, god. Fuck yeah, you’re squeezing my dick so nice and good. God, how are you so tight, baby boy? Fuuuuck,” Clark drawled. It was worse than Bruce thought. A praise kink and humiliation kink apparently on top of a daddy kink.

 

It was too much.

 

“Daddy?” Clark’s hands grasped at Bruce’s soft hips. Before Bruce could register what was going on, he was lifted till only the tip of Clark’s cock was still in him, and then brought down on the fat girth whilst Clark thrusted up.

  
“OH FUCK~!!” Bruce saw white, mind sent careening as pleasure shot through him, build up from the earlier fingering helping to make him spurt out his release when the hard thrust hit his prostate.

 

Without a moment’s notice, he was lifted again, and the simultaneous thrust and drop from earlier was repeated. Again. And again. And again.

 

Mouth taut with pleasure and throat roughened from his moaning, tears flowed down Bruce’s face. He was red with both the exertion and the sensation, blush climbing down his torso and- fuck, it was so cute, Kal wanted to fuck him so hard that expression would stay on him forever. Fuck- Bruce’s ass was a delicious warmth that wrapped around his dick- it was pure bliss.

 

When Bruce came a second time, his hands clawed at Clark’s firm ones before reaching up and smothering his own face maddeningly as if trying to muffle his delicious moans. Down south, his cum leaked, shooting onto Clark’s abdomen with abandon and, Clark, following soon after, hands tightening their grip as he brought down Bruce with such a force that more cum spurted from his bobbing cock. In seconds, Kal was groaning from the depths of his chest and with his dick buried as deep as it could go in Bruce’s ass, he came, the sudden flood of warm cum sending a shock into Bruce’s system.

 

Exhausted, Bruce fell forward onto Kal’s body, smearing his cum across their abdomens as Kal’s leaked in a steady flow when the huge cock inevitably left his now gaping hole, the tip having tugged at the rim before coming loose with a pop.

 

There, in the dark, the both of them heaved in silence, waiting to catch their breath. Bruce, on his end, was tired to the bone, eyelids heavy as he listened to Clark’s own breathing, head falling and rising on the warm pecs that it lay on.

 

When Kal looked down to peer at his partner, he was prideful and shocked to see that he’d fallen asleep, and smiled softly. Even in his sleep, his boyfriend looked eternally peaceful and innocent.

 

Doing his best not to stir the sleeping beauty, Kal softly moved Bruce to his side before lifting himself off of the bed and making his way towards the bathroom. There, he retrieved a towel and washed it slightly with warm water, cleaning the cum that was beginning to dry on his abs and on his dick. After, he washed that and then moved towards the bedroom where Bruce was obliviously snoozing, taking the warm cloth his partner’s face and wiping down the dried cum from earlier and then wiping away at the cum that leaked between his thighs. They’ll have to clean the rest later, in the morning, but for now, the bed was calling to Kal, and he couldn’t resist.

 

Under the moonlight, he rested his glasses on the bedside table and crept under the covers with Bruce, embracing the smaller man’s entirety as the sleeping dead cuddled into his significantly warmer side.  

 

In the dark, warm and content, Kal fell asleep.

  
  


“When are you going to introduce us to him?” Barry inquired. Kal need not play the fool. He knew they were talking about Bruce.

 

He popped the question around a bit in his head.

 

“When I’m ready, I guess.” The speedster hummed.

 

“Have you told him about your true identity, yet?” Raven piped up at the far end of the table. Kal shook his head. He had yet to do that, too. Now that he knew what Bruce really thought of him, he didn’t know how he was supposed to present his secret identity to the man. He couldn’t even anticipate how he’d react, if he did.

 

And two nights ago… two nights ago…

 

Kal had yet to get back into contact with Bruce since the night they slept together. He had to admit, he was nervous to do so. The experience had been new to both men and he didn’t really know if Bruce was comfortable with what went on. For all he knew, the younger man had one night of being laid away from being a virgin.

 

On that note, he also was afraid of slipping up.

 

Slipping up on the fact that he’s actually been listening in to his partner’s heartbeat for several days now. The steady beat of the organ throughout his daily life had a soothing effect that mimicked the one he’d experienced with Lois, though far from the unfazed beat what with it rapidly declining and increasing with their interactions.

 

Maybe one day, he’ll spill his secret.

 

Just not today.

  
  


Kal’s eyes shot open in the darkness of his fortress room.

 

Bruce’s heart was racing unnaturally quickly, the formerly steady beat shocked from its slumber and flowing heavily as if petrified. If Kal concentrated enough, he could hear the thin walls of the ventricles straining ever so slightly.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Something was wrong and he had to find Bruce- as little a time as they’ve known each other (as irrationally little a time, a weird part of his head whispered), he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

 

Donning his suit and shooting off into the sky, headed towards the brightening, morning skies of Gotham City.

 

A gunshot rung out loud and clear in Kal’s ears.

 

A robbery-

 

Oh _fuck_ , it was a robbery-

 

In milliseconds, Kal had dropped down to the store, apprehending the intruding teenagers who wielded guns and pocket knifes, brandishing them threateningly at Bruce, who cowered against the corner where a wall and the counter met. A deep, animalistic growl rising from the pits of his gut, Kal shot forth, grasping a fragile wrist and bending it unnaturally while panic and screams ensued inside the shop.

 

Dimly, he felt a nearly imperceptible tugging on his bicep, vision alight with red as he realized he’d been staring down one of the masked teens holding a gun.

 

“STOP!! PLEASE, LORD SUPERMAN, I BEG OF YOU!! T-THEY’RE JUST CHILDREN, SIR!!! STOP!!”

 

Kal turned. Beside him, Bruce had been committing a futile attempt to pull his arm off of the teen, face red with exertion and cheeks wet with tears.

 

Kal stared down at his lover sternly, almost confused.

 

He turned back towards the panicked teenagers. “I don’t see why I should spare them. They may be young, but what sort of excuse is that?” His voice was laced with authority and the precise muscle control aided him in masking his voice. Bruce had no idea who he was trying to stop.

  
Kal shook him off.

 

Shocked momentarily, Bruce stumbled back, falling on his butt dumbly when he was shaken off and small sniffles of frustration shaking his stocky frame.

 

“I-I’m s-sorry, Lord Su-Superman!! B-But please!!” He kneeled before Kal in a sickening display of submission, eyes peering up at Kal’s cold ones. “Th-They don’t know a-any better!! Th-”

 

“Shut up.” Bruce flinched. Kal woke worried for his sweetheart, but really, these ideals were gnawing on his patience. He ripped off the hood of the terrified teenager he held, revealing the pale face of what looked to be a blonde 17 year old.

 

“Do you see this?” Kal was careful to omit Bruce’s name. He wasn’t supposed to know it, after all. “This is a teenager. Teenagers are supposed to be mentally developed enough to have a conscience- a sense of right and wrong. They definitely do know better.”

 

Below him, Bruce’s face twisted into a hopeless expression, lip quivering in defeat as he realized that the Kryptonian wasn’t going to listen to him. His gaze lowered, aimed at the other, now cowering teenagers, looking as if he wanted to tell them he was sorry that he couldn’t help them.

 

What an empath.

 

Kal dropped the teen he was holding onto the ground, his head rebounding against the tile floor and a mix of a groan and a whimper escaping the boy’s lips.

 

The Kryptonian turned back to his lover. Crouching before the stressed visage, Kal grabbed at the sharp chin with his large hand and-

 

-and kissed Bruce.

 

For a second, he was rendered speechless and frozen with shock and then- then he was lashing out, trying to escape the hard grip the alien had on him with a desperation that only told of rejection.

 

Kal thought it was cute, how simply loyal the man could be. He really thought that he was a separate being from Clark Kent.

 

With his free hand, Kal glued his mouth the Bruce’s, the human unable to pull back from both the grip on his chin and the pressing hand behind his skull, squeezing with the light threat of death. Below the stoic man whose eyes were steely as they gazed into panicked ones, Bruce squirmed and thrashed. His lungs burned as the force kiss held, and the longer he went without oxygen, the more he fought desperately and flailed to free himself of the Kal. No matter what he did, though, the alien didn’t budge, staring with a fierce intensity into his eyes while they watered, vision swarming with darkness as Bruce wasted more and more energy into trying to escape.

 

He couldn’t breathe! Oh god, he was going to die, oh god- Clark- help him!

 

He- He couldn’t breathe…! H-Help… Help… him…

  
  


When his raven haired beauty fell limp to the floor, no longer fighting back with his eyes practically rolled back into his head, Kal let go, gently lowering the man to the floor and standing to turn back to the astonished teenagers.

 

Kal wiped at his mouth.

 

Whatever. Who gave a damn what they saw. They weren’t going to live to tell the tale.

 

Not with Bruce out of the way, for now.

 

In the quiet of the shop, Bruce wistfully slept unconscious, body sprawled on the floor as the door swung furiously with a force that told of a quick escape.

 

Later, a caped figure would walk back into the store and carry the limp figure up the stairs to the above bedroom and change its ratty apron and sweatpants into a nearby pair of old, ill fitting pajamas. Then, they themselves would change discreetly into soft plaid and patchy jeans with some hair gel and glasses to top the look.

 

In his waking, Bruce will think the robbery to only be a dream as he snoozes peacefully atop the warm, solid muscle of his partner’s body. There is no evidence to prove otherwise, after all, and there’s no way that Superman himself would focus on a little shop like his just because there’s a robbery ongoing. He had more important matters to deal with, being the ruler of the Earth and whatnot.

 

Most especially, though, when soft, chapped lips plant themselves softly on his temple, Bruce’s eyes drift dreamily back to sleep, accepting that he’d overslept for the day. Oh well. He’ll worry about it later.

  
  


Outside the room, Damian’s terrified green eyes met with Kal El’s solid blue ones. He’s failed.

 

Oh god, he’s failed.

  
  


“You should stop seeing Clark.”

 

Bruce turned to his youngest in shock, brows raised in question. Where did that come from? He thought Damian was rather fond of the retired journalist, but suddenly, he was demanding he break up with Clark?  
  
“What? Damian, are you okay?” The boy scowled.

  
“Of course, I am, Father!” His gaze drifted momentarily before meeting his own again. “Just- I can’t explain it to you. You need to leave the a- You need to leave Clark.”

 

If it weren’t for the stern, serious look his biological son adorned, Bruce would have burst out laughing. He could always trust his son, knowing full well that he was more observant and intelligent than he should be for his age, but this was a stretch!

 

“Damian, I can’t just break up with Clark on that premise,” Bruce said, frowning. “And besides, I love him. It’d break his heart.”

 

Before him, Damian seemed to almost redden with frustration, a trait, perhaps, that he got from Bruce. He stomped his foot. “You don’t get it! Father-!”  


The entry bell dinged and two familiar faces walked in to the shop.

 

“Pamela! Harley!” Bruce greeted delightfully. It’s been a while since he’d seen the sweet couple. He wonders how they’ve been doing.

 

As per usual, Harley acted overjoyed and shot forward, encasing Bruce in a hug and imprinting a kiss mark on his cheek. Platonically, of course. “BRUCIE!! Long time no see, sweetie!!” Her smile bright and heavy Gotham accent as present as always, she ruffled Bruce’s hair. As short as Bruce was, he was still taller than the blonde, so, of course, Bruce didn’t try to make anything rougher for her. He let tilted his head, letting her mess up his hair playfully.

 

Behind her, the botanist scoffed playfully, used to her lover’s energetic antics. Leaning against the counter, she yawned. Knowing the redhead, they’d walked here from the other end of Gotham instead of taking a car, so Bruce understood that she (not Harley, though) was tired.

 

“I take it you’ll be wanted a coffee to pick up your spirits, Pamela?” Even with Harley still roughing up his hair and covering his eyes with strands, Bruce could see the his friend’s eyes light up with the idea.

 

“God, yes please. Don’t give any to Harl, though-” Harley pouted pitifully- “or else she’s gonna wear me down before this day’s over.” Bruce chuckled and took off to the back of the store.

 

In the storefront, Damian stood awkward and forgotten between the two adults.

 

Except, of course, this wasn’t the case for long.

 

“Hey little Bruce! How’s it going?!” The nudge at his ribs almost felt like an insult for whatever reason. Damian scowled and promptly didn’t respond.

 

“Well that’s a little rude,” Pamela huffed.

 

“I don’t have to answer to you!” Damian shot back.

 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you think you’re mom’s the best of us. That’s exactly why you won’t be getting a girlfriend anytime in the future,” Pamela joked, and Harley cackled delightfully. Embarrassed and insulted _now_ , Damian flushed.

 

Then an idea popped into his head.

 

“Isley!! Quinzel!!”

 

If his father wasn’t willing to separate from the monster, he could always go about things differently.

 

Whatever he could do to keep his father safe, after all.

  
  


Kal walked into the silent shop, the bell being the only sound he could hear from the first floor. That’s strange. Usually at this time, Bruce was expecting him and would be ready to greet him down by the counter. Was he upstairs?

 

A bit befuddled, Kal walked over to the back room, entering the doorway that lead to the above apartment. As he made his way over to the door, though, grabbing his spare key out of his pocket, he listened in and heard Bruce and Damian’s heartbeats accompanied by two unfamiliar ones. That was… strange.

 

Turning the knob, Kal pushed the door open, exclaiming softly so as to not possibly startle Bruce, “Bruce! I’m h-”

 

A soft gasp and several chuckles let loose into the apartment and Kal stopped in the doorway.

 

On the couch, Bruce was being kissed on both of his cheeks by two women, one blond with ponytails dyed pink and blue, and the other, redheaded.

 

Kal breathed-

 

-and then promptly lost his shit.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE, BRUCE?!”  


The yell practically shook the room and startled the younger, who instinctively whined and cowered under the women. In turn, the two pulled back, moving off of the couch with sudden urgency.

 

Kal turned on them immediately.

 

Faster than any of their horrified eyes could follow, Kal was at the redhead’s neck, hands squeezing around the soft throat-

 

Bruce screamed in terror-

 

“CLARK!! STOP!! I CAN EXPLAIN!!!”

 

No. Kal wasn’t going to take his shit. He threw the redhead into the blonde, sending them against a wall. Bruce stared on horrified and speechless. Kal, on the other hand, threw out his arms as if in waiting.

 

“WELL?! EXPLAIN, MOTHERFUCKER!!” He was enraged. “ARE YOU FUCKING CHEATING ON ME WITH THESE FUCKING WHORES?!”

 

Bruce winced with a slight expression of anger. “CLARK THAT ISN’T IT!! AND DON’T CALL THEM THAT!! DON’T YOU DARE CALL THEM THAT!! THESE TWO ARE MY FRIENDS, CLARK!!” This was the first time that Bruce raised his voice at Clark.

 

“FRIENDS?! WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS, BRUCE?! FUCK BUDDIES?! IS THAT IT, HUH!?”

 

Tears of frustration leaked from Bruce’s eyes. Clark wasn’t listening to him, and things were going bad really quickly. “STOP IT, CLARK!!” he screeched. “STOP!! JUST FUCKING STOP!! YOU WON’T EVEN LISTEN TO ME!!” With a cry, Bruce raised his hand in a sudden act of courage and slapped Clark-

 

-except his hand exploded with pain and ached, and through gritted teeth and shuttering eyelids, he saw Clark’s shocked expression before the man rushed down to him to take the pained hand into his own two.

 

Out of sheer terror, he shrieked.

 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!”

 

For a second, he thought his lover wasn’t going to listen- the warm hold around his throbbing hand stayed, and then suddenly, it had lifted, and the click of the door resounded in the apartment.

 

On the floor, against the ratty old couch of his apartment, Bruce sat sobbing until Harley and Pamela came to, speed-dialing Harvey to rush Bruce to the ER.

 

From the bedroom, Damian continued to watch, impressed. Who knew that right timing was all that was needed to give the wrong impression that platonic goodbye kisses were lustful and laced with unfaithfulness. Now, his father had some sense knocked into him.

 

Now, his father would be protected from the alien.

  
  


“THAT SON OF A BITCH!!” Harvey kicked at the metal leg of an innocent chair. “I’M GOING TO FUCKING HUNT HIM DOWN!!”

 

Beside him, Pamela tried to yell some sense into the man. “CALM DOWN, HARVEY!!” Instead, the man’s gaze turned on her, eyes lighted with anger and lips put out into a sneer as if wanting to say something but holding back. “HARVEY!! LISTEN!!!” Jesus christ, for being soft hearted, he surely was thick headed. They needed to get shit through his skull before he went after Bruce’s boyfriend over a misunderstanding.

 

“Harv, it was a logical misunderstanding! We’re sure Brucie’s sweetheart didn’t mean to hurt nobody!” Harley’s lip quivered. Such a shame to see heartbreak between two, good lovers.

 

The DA was on edge, though, with his best friend currently having to go through surgery because his hand was near fractured and the shock dislocated his shoulder. “DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT NO ONE MY ASS, HARLS!!”

 

“SHUT UP, HARVEY!! WE WERE THERE!! WE WERE KISSING BRUCE, OF COURSE THE GUY WOULD TAKE THINGS THE WRONG WAY!! HE JUST LOST CONTROL IS ALL!!” Pamela shot back.

 

“NO SANE, WELL INTENTIONED FUCKER WHO LOSES CONTROL SENDS TWO PEOPLE CRASHING INTO A WALL AND NEAR RIPS OFF THEIR PARTNER’S ARM!!” He was livid, so much so, he saw red.

 

“Maybe so, Harv, but don’t exaggerate things! Bruce just tried to slap him, is all, and through some magical horseshit, it was him that got hurt instead!” Harley threw up her hands as if it got her point across better. It really didn’t, but the clarification eased Harvey just a tad bit. Still, though, that bit of info was deemed investigation worthy.

 

He inhaled a bit, cooling his head and pinching his brow. “Okay.” Another deep breath in, and an exhale. “Okay. Well, what the hell, even if he really didn’t mean to hurt anyone, this son of a bitch is clearly dangerous.” At that, neither of the women tried to argue. “I’m still going to look this guy up. Shit seems fishy,” he huffed, and the silence continued to hang in the air.

 

“Harvey?” A head popped out down the corridor, followed by three more.

 

“Dick. Hello.” The eldest son sighed in relief, when he saw the smaller figure sitting beside their blond acquaintance. Thank god, Damian was actually with the three.

 

Jason, Tim, and Cassandra had barely gotten the calls about Bruce’s hospitalization while they were entering lunch period, and in turn, Dick rushed over to the school with a car lent by Harvey to pick them up and bring them here. They didn’t get many details, but they knew full and well that some serious shit had gone down between Bruce and Clark, and Bruce was sent to the ER as a result.

 

Recalling the shakey phone call with Harley, Dick swallowed harshly. Maybe they’d gotten something wrong, because from what they’ve seen, there’s no way that Clark could hurt Bruce… right? Silently, he doubted himself, wondering if there was more turmoils that he hadn’t yet seen in the three months that his adoptive father and Clark were together.

 

“I want an explanation. We want an explanation. Please. There’s no way all this damage could have been caused by Clark,” Jason whispered. Harvey looked at the lot of them pitifully and Damian sat stoic. Strange.

 

“It was Clark who did,” he paused, gesticulating down towards the surgery ward and at his female companions, “this.” He spat the last word out distastefully, like he himself couldn’t understand how Clark was the culprit either. “Apparently, he walked in to Harley and Pamela kissing Bruce on the cheeks and, um,” he looked away, “jumped to the wrong conclusions. Bruce is only hurt because he slapped him and somehow it hurt Bruce instead. We won’t know till he comes out of surgery; Pam and Harls were out cold when it happened. We’ve been here for two hours, now.”

 

The group stood silently in shock, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed with disbelief and denial. God, what has things come to?

  
  


“Superman.”

 

No response.

 

“Kal.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Clark.”

 

The silhouette flinched in the darkened room. Diana looked on pitifully. “What’s wrong?” For three hours, the Kryptonian had locked himself inside his watchtower bedroom, refusing to respond to anyone’s calls amidst the space station. Now, only his best friend was left to question him, and in spite of their years together, it was still going to be difficult.

 

He turned his head only the slightest bit, letting Diana see the quiver of his lower lip with her sharp eyes.

 

“I fucked up, Di.” She didn’t say a word, her silence prompting him to continue.

 

“I-... I thought he’d been cheating on me. I thought Bruce was unfaithful… I threw his friends into a wall and… and he broke his wrist and got hurt… trying to slap me when I… didn’t listen to him.” Kal swallowed, a lump in his throat forming and making it harder and harder to speak continuously. “He’s in the ICU. He just came out of surgery.”

 

Diana sighed. Life could never be easy for his friend.

 

Sorrowful, she strode into the room and hugged Kal. Oh sweet Hera, life would never be easy for the immortal.

  
  


Harvey’s brows furrowed as he dug deeper and deeper through records accessed via his laptop. Things weren’t adding up. In the past hour that everyone had been waiting for Bruce to awaken, he’s been digging into this “Clark Kent” character and everything could only be rendered… strange.

 

Clark, like the profile of the man he’d been viewing, was 46 years old… if he’d still been alive, that was.

 

According to public records, Clark Kent… Clark Kent died at the age of 30… sixteen years ago, in the disaster of Metropolis. And yet, the man pulled up on Harvey’s screen had matched Clark’s physical description; tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair, blue eyes that hid behind a thick pair of glasses, with a midwestern accent that matched up with the proclaimed Kansan descent. Was this some elaborate form of identity theft? There’s no way that could be possible, though. From what Harvey could recall, the man Bruce had dated matched the deceased Clark Kent to a T, albeit aged up appropriately.

 

Looking deeper, Clark’s claims of having been a Daily Planet reporter also matched up. The deceased Clark Kent _had_ worked for the Daily Planet as one of their star reporters.

 

Confused, Harvey continued to search, coming across several articles written by the man in his time of being alive.

 

Skimming through them, he searched for one wherein he’d shared a byline with another reporter, hoping it could shed some clues on the man who’d experienced his early thirties when Harvey was still only just a teenager himself.

 

 _‘By Clark Kent and Lo…’_ one finally read.

 

Hoping for some kind of break, his laptop illuminating the darkened room wherein the boys and girls slept, Bruce still knocked out from anesthesia, Harvey clicked on the article.

 

**_‘SUPERMAN SAVES THE DAY!!_ **

**_MAN OF STEEL STOPS NUCLEAR EXPLOSION IN SOUTH CAROLINA_ **

**_By Clark Kent and Lois Lane’_ **

 

Lois Lane.

 

Lois. Lane.

 

Oh.

 

Harvey looked at his best friend, panicked. Oh.

 

Oh dear god.

 

 _Oh no_.

  
  


As sneakily as possible, Kal stepped into the hospital room wearing Clark Kent’s clothes and a bouquet and letter in hand. Careful to float off of the ground, he tried to gently leave the bouquet on the bedside table and-

 

The lamp switched on, startling Kal, whose alertness was running dry due to the high rush of emotion from earlier.

 

On the side opposite to where he floated, Harvey Dent sat staring intensely at Kal, a solemn look in his eyes.

 

And so they stayed for several minutes, neither making a move nor word at the discovery until Harvey finally caved.

 

“Are you just toying with Bruce?”

 

For a second, Kal didn’t register the question, but when he did, he reeled back with the shock of anxiety and worry. “No. No, I wasn’t,” he replied, equally as sorrowful.

 

For several more minutes, Harvey stared at the Kryptonian, rendering him uncomfortable with eyes that seemed to pass judgement.

 

Then his eyes drifted over to the envelope in his hand. “Is that…?” Harvey swallowed, throat closing steadily. Kal nodded, eyes downcast with grief.

 

“It’s for the best.” In turn, the DA nodded. He understood.

 

Kal dropped the letter atop the resting flowers. “Thank you,” he said in passing, when he’d opened the door to leave. “Take care of him for me?” he asked, turning his head to get one more look at the soft, innocent being that laid still on the bed, chest rising and falling with his breathing.

 

Harvey grunted. “Yeah. I will.”

 

Kal nodded and turned back around, heart heavy as he listened to the hum of machinery echoing down the blindingly white hospital corridor, empty of occupants so late into the night.

  
  


The door clicked shut as the clock struck 12.

 

“Goodbye, Kal,” Harvey whispered, knowing the Kryptonian would be listening in. It was for the best, he told himself.

 

He looked over to his sleeping best friend, his heart worn down with enough grief, tragedy, and heartbreak to last a lifetime.

 

 _Yeah_ , he almost scoffed mentally.

 

It’s for the best.

  
  


‘I’m sorry.

-Clark’

 

Momentarily, Bruce was overcome with a dreadful, stomach churning anxiety as his fingers traced over the golden script engraved into the sweet smelling card gifted to him, the flowers on his bedside table popping vibrantly in the midst of the bland hospital room.

 

He doesn’t know why he was here, nor why the atmosphere seemed so heavy.

 

He turned to his best friend, who sat in the chair beside his bed. “Harv?”

 

“Yeah?”  


“Who’s Clark?”

 

His best friend’s eyes seemed to almost well up with tears. It must be the morphine

 

“No one in particular, Bruce. You don’t have to worry about him.”

 

Bruce stared for a solid moment, blanking out as he tried to concentrate on the name.

 

What was he thinking about again?

 

“Okay, Harv.”

 

“Thank you, Harv.”

  
  


The end.

**Author's Note:**

> I… I do not remember writing most of this. On Saturday night, I abandoned an idea I was barely starting out and wrote random shit on a google doc and it sprung out from there. I remember writing five pages… and then I was at 33. I had no idea how this would go from start to finish. I had no plot. I just wrote shit and suddenly, I had a storyline before me. There were details I felt were important to include and later they unintentionally came full circle. I read over my first 33 pages after I woke up and… it was not my writing style. I pulled 50 new words and words I haven’t seen in years out of god knows where. This fic feels heavily like I wasn’t the one who wrote it, but I finished it and I have no other explanation, so I’m posting it.
> 
> On that note, that’s also strange. I am not this committed nor motivated to completing things, especially such a long fic, better yet one that I had no idea for how it’d go. I rushed the ending in fear that I’d lose myself to the thing that possessed me to write this, but, in the end, it feels like I still followed someone else’s instructions. Shit takes a weird turn.
> 
> When I finished it, it made sense and didn’t make sense all at the same time. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote. I just know that I clicked together ideas nicely and that in a way, the fic does make sense. In addition, this is the most expansive writing i’ve ever created, even though I kinda cut off at the end and shit goes down the drain. Some things included are also kinda prompted from previous feedback on other fics.
> 
> Personally, this piece feels like absolute shit.
> 
> And yet, something is compelling me to write a sequel.
> 
> Unbeta'd btw


End file.
